


Suncity

by americanbaekhyun



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Real names are used, Roman Catholicism, Slight homophobia tw, They live in Busan, Youngkyun is Catholic, based on a khalid song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 09:04:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16971723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanbaekhyun/pseuds/americanbaekhyun
Summary: Taeyang takes Youngkyun to Suncity.(Inspired by Khalid's "Suncity")





	Suncity

**Author's Note:**

> Slight homophobia TW (if you didn't read the tags). The bolded italic sentences are lyrics from the song.
> 
> Also a quick note - religion is seen as the "enemy" in this story but I am NOT trying to offend anyone who is part of the Catholic faith!

**_Llego a la ciudad de sol  
Llévame, llévame, donde dejé mi corazón_ **

 

Youngkyun had a secret. He wasn’t supposed to keep secrets. He was supposed to tell his parents everything, but more importantly, he was supposed to tell God everything. He was raised as a devout Catholic—he went to the most expensive Catholic boys’ school in the outskirts of Busan, he went to church every Sunday and prayed each night before going to bed and before every meal. His parents insisted he follow the hypocritically strict rules of Catholicism which included developing a deep relationship with God.

 

His secret did not get him closer to God. In fact, it brought him further.

 

His secret was a person—Yoo Taeyang. Taeyang was everything Youngkyun wished to be—young, wild, and free. Unrestricted by the rules of organized religion, Taeyang lived in the city, just a half-an-hour’s ride from Youngkyun’s quiet, suburban lifestyle. Youngkyun had met him in the city during a school trip—he was dancing in public to a song played by an old foreign musician and attracting quite a crowd. Youngkyun, a bright-eyed seventh grader clad in his school uniform, had clambered to the front and made eye contact with the young dancer-boy and then decided to stay until the end of the dance. And Taeyang—as he would learn his name—was drawn to Youngkyun. Youngkyun met him frequently after that, around the city and even the suburbs, always careful to avoid his parents’ watchful eyes. They wouldn’t approve of him befriending someone who wasn’t baptized.

 

When Youngkyun started high school, everything changed. He met Taeyang every Friday night and, since Taeyang, being a year older than him, had his driver’s license, he would usually whisk him away to the bright lights of the city of Busan and speak of nonsensical things while they went places Youngkyun’s parents would never approve of. 

 

It was nine at night. _Restless hour_ , Youngkyun called it. He was finished with his schoolwork and was expected to be asleep. He had prayed with his parents before they said goodnight and left him (seemingly) asleep in his bed. He was waiting patiently before his phone on the nightstand next to him would buzz.

 

It was 9:15 when Youngkyun’s phone buzzed. It was one simple text from a number he’d vaguely labeled as “T”.

 

_Look down._

 

Youngkyun scrambled out of bed, just quietly enough not to disturb his parents, who were most likely in their beds but still awake, and tugged up on the window. Sure enough, his getaway, Yoo Taeyang, was waiting down below, dressed in a leather jacket and tight, tight ripped pants. 

 

Youngkyun bit his lower lip before waving down to him. Taeyang smiled, waved, and motioned for Youngkyun to join him.

 

Youngkyun nodded, held up one finger as though to say _wait just a minute_ and took off his pajamas. Every Friday, he slipped into better clothes that weren’t as conservatively Catholic—ripped jeans and a casual, white collared shirt that he would tuck into the front part of his jeans. 

 

After years of sneaking out to meet Taeyang, Youngkyun had gotten escape down to an art. First, he stuffed his bed with extra pillows and draped the top in a brown t-shirt he’d grown out of as hair, in case his parents checked on him. He would then make sure his parents’ door was closed. If not, Taeyang might have to wait a few extra minutes. They were always in bed by ten. If the door was closed (like so tonight), Youngkyun would slip by it, crawling army-style, and then begin his descent down the stairs—making sure to stay towards the right side because the left and middle of the stairs would creak.

 

Once he was downstairs, he went out the back door, being sure to take a spare key with him. The back door wouldn’t make a noise if opened and there was less of a chance that the security alarm would go off. Then, hugging tightly to the house so as not to set off the motion-detected lights, he finally found Taeyang, leaning up against the side of the house.

 

“Ready?” Taeyang whispered.

 

Youngkyun nodded. He glanced back up at his parents’ window—the blinds were down, so it would be easier to get away. He followed Taeyang to his car—an old silver Hyundai—and got in the front seat. Taeyang, clever as ever, didn’t turn on his headlights until they pulled out of the neighborhood.

 

“So,” Taeyang began. “There’s this new restaurant that just opened up earlier this afternoon. Kinda in the heart of the city so it might take a little longer to get to, but it’s an Italian place. Maybe we can get some pasta.”

 

“And take it where?” Youngkyun asked. “If it just opened, it’ll be crowded, won’t it? Do you think they’ll be tables?”

 

Taeyang shrugged, turning down the street. The bright lights of the city on a Friday night were already coming into view. “Worth a shot. You wanna go? Could be fun.”

 

“We could take it on the beach. Can we go to the beach tonight, Tae?”

 

“Sure,” Taeyang agreed. “Actually, I didn’t get a chance to go. I was meaning to go this afternoon but I had dance.”

 

“How long do you dance?” Youngkyun asked innocently. He knew Taeyang danced more than he went to school—he practically lived at a competitive dance company and he held dance above all else.

 

“Five hours,” Taeyang boasted confidently. He turned on the radio and turned the music down, just so they would be able to hear each other. “And I love it.”

 

“I bet you do,” Youngkyun said. “You dance more than you breathe. My parents would never let me do anything like that.”

 

“Neither would mine.”

 

“Tae!”

 

Taeyang laughed. “They don’t have to know. My mom doesn’t even live with me and my dad anyways, so she shouldn’t care. My dad just thinks I’m at school. And then when I go to night school, he thinks I’m dancing.”

 

“Christ Tae.”

 

“Would your parents approve of you using the Lord’s name in vain?” Taeyang asked teasingly.

 

Youngkyun clicked his tongue. “Hell fucking no.”

 

\--

 

Much to Youngkyun’s (feigned) surprise, the new Italian place was, in fact, packed. People were lined up wall-to-wall and when Taeyang asked how long the wait might be for a table, the waiter gave him a gruff laugh and said two and a half hours. Needless to say, they ended up with cheap Chinese takeout in the back of Taeyang’s car.

 

They’d turned on the radio and found a lofi beats station, reclined the chairs back all the way so they could stretch out and talked until nearly eleven.

 

Taeyang picked at the bottom of his takeout container and frowned. “Shit. All gone.”

 

Youngkyun stared emptily at what used to be a box of lo-mein. “Me too. Did you order any of that chicken shit?”

 

Taeyang shook his head. “No. I mean, we can go back. I think the place is open twenty-four hours.”

 

“Seems fake,” Youngkyun stated with narrowed eyes. “Why don’t we just go. . .”

 

“That club we went to last Friday?” Taeyang asked, raising his brow teasingly. 

 

Youngkyun shook his head vigorously. “God no! That place was a nightmare to get in and it wasn’t even that fun.”

 

“It was fun watching you pretend to be sober on the way home,” Taeyang said with a laugh.

 

Youngkyun grinned and hit him playfully. “I hate you, Tae.”

 

“I hate you too, Kyun,” Taeyang mimicked and his eyes sparkled. Then, he took a breath and placed his empty Chinese takeout and chopsticks on the center console. He reclined his seat back to normal and rubbed his hands together anxiously. “Where should we go, Kyun? The night is young.”

 

“Beach,” Youngkyun said assertively. “When was the last time we went?” 

 

Taeyang took a long swig of soda. “The last time we went together? Um. . .”

 

“Exactly. Look at the moon, Tae, it’s full, that means we have to go. It’s destiny,” he declared.

 

“Destiny?”

 

“Destiny,” Youngkyun repeated determinedly. He looked to his left to see Taeyang smiling at him from the driver’s seat. “What?”

 

Taeyang chuckled. “Nothing. Seatbelt on, Kyun.”

 

\--

 

The beaches in Busan, in Youngkyun’s opinion, were more manmade than natural. Pre-prepared umbrellas, chairs, and coolers lined the polluted sand, while volleyball nets all-but blocked the entrance to the waves, which crashed on the shore with a less-than-rhythmic sound.

 

Luckily, Youngkyun had his own personal guide to the Busan beaches—Yoo Taeyang. Taeyang had lived in Busan all his life and he knew all the right spots on the beaches, the kind where tourists never thought to go and vendors never sold ice cream. There weren’t any chairs or umbrellas waiting for them and there were no volleyball nets or lifeguard chairs that pointlessly took up room, and the sand wasn’t invisible under mountains of litter. There was only the ocean, the dunes, and the sand.

 

It was a walk, of course, to Taeyang’s favorite spot but they made it feel shorter. Youngkyun felt like conversation flowed more naturally with Taeyang, and he felt more alive.

 

He’d wrestled with the idea of love since he met Taeyang. All his life, he’d been taught to love girls and fantasize over them, but sometimes, he would find himself staring at Taeyang, wanting to taste his lips and feel his arms around him. Sinful yes, but Youngkyun loved it. _Taeyang_ meant _sun_ , and that was were Youngkyun wanted Taeyang to take him. A city of only themselves. Not Busan. _Suncity_ , he called it.

 

He wasn’t sure if he was planning on telling Taeyang about his feelings. He didn’t know how Taeyang would react and worse, maybe he wouldn’t feel the same. Was it love? Youngkyun wasn’t sure, but he knew he didn’t like the idea of apart from Taeyang, and that was love enough for him.

 

Just then, Taeyang sat down abruptly. He pulled his knees to his chest and looked at Youngkyun with large, waiting eyes. “We’re here. Did you zone out, Kyun?”

 

Youngkyun ruffled the older’s hair. “Only a little.” He sat next to Taeyang on the sand. For a few moments, they sat in silence, hands kept strictly at their sides and shoulders only slightly touching, midnight breeze tossing up their hair.

 

“Your hair’s gotten kinda long,” Taeyang remarked.

 

Youngkyun’s hands flew up to tend to his long, chestnut hair self-consciously. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize, I like it like this,” Taeyang said. He ran his fingers through Youngkyun’s hair and Youngkyun tried to ignore the fire it set off in his belly.

 

“I’ll have to cut it soon,” Youngkyun mumbled embarrassingly. “I’m not allowed to grow it too long.”

 

“Doesn’t the Bible not let you cut your hair?” Taeyang asked skeptically. “Keep it like this if you want to, it’s your hair. Don’t let God control every aspect of your life.”

 

Youngkyun smiled. “I listen to my parents, not God.” Taeyang’s hand was still on Youngkyun’s head and the pressure was warm and comforting. “I don’t believe in the same God they do.”

 

“Really?” Taeyang asked and Youngkyun felt him remove his hand. He mentally cringed at the loss. “What kind of God?”

 

“I think. . . I think there is one God who’s both good and evil. And there’s no heaven or hell,” Youngkyun said. He rested his chin on the top of his knees, staring off into the black Pacific horizon. “That answers my questions, but my parents would kill me if I told them that.”

 

Taeyang wrapped his arm around Youngkyun and pulled him close. Youngkyun felt butterflies erupt in his stomach, panicking. “I have a lot of respect for you, Kyun. Seriously.”

 

“Thanks, I think,” Youngkyun said with a small laugh. He was frozen, brain shutting completely off in Taeyang’s arms.

 

“I find it takes me a while to respect people,” Taeyang stated. He rested his head on the top of Youngkyun’s. “You know how my parents divorced a few years ago, right?”

 

Youngkyun gave a stiff nod, hoping Taeyang would keep holding him. Youngkyun had known Taeyang since he was in seventh grade and Taeyang’s parents had divorced when he was a freshman in high school. Now, since he was a junior, it seemed like ages ago, but the scars were still deep and bleeding. Taeyang barely spoke to Youngkyun when they met up, and they didn’t have fun. It was as though someone had died. Taeyang’s mother had had an affair with a Japanese tycoon and Taeyang was incredibly close to her. Was. He lost his trust and respect for her after he and his dad found out about the incident and the he decided to stay in Busan with his dad while his mother left to live in Japan. The whole thing had devasted him, and Youngkyun had felt intensely protective over him in that time, trying his best to shield him from anything else.

 

“Well, the divorce papers are getting signed soon.”

 

“Divorce papers?” Youngkyun asked quietly. “So they were never formerly. . .”

 

“Apart, yeah. They just. . . stopped being married all-of-a-sudden. But my dad’s running out of money to care for me, so he needs formal custody agreements and my mom needs to give him money since I’m still a minor.”

 

“Your mom doesn’t want custody, does she?”

 

“No, luckily,” Taeyang said. “I would never want to live with her. At this point, I’ve left my heart in Busan. I can’t leave. You’re here, my dad’s here, my dance is here. . . my heart is here. And now, I’ve found someone other than my dad that I respect and trust. You won’t leave me, will you, Kyun?”

 

“As long as you don’t leave me,” Youngkyun said. “I’ll be here. I can’t promise all the time and I can’t promise you’ll ever be able to meet my parents since they won’t want me hanging out with someone who’s not baptized, but I’m not gonna leave you, got it?”

 

“Got it.”

 

And then, a period of silence. Youngkyun was still enveloped by Taeyang’s arms, his head on the older’s chest and Taeyang’s head on top of his. The silence wasn’t awkward, just. . . sentimental. 

 

“Taeyang,” Youngkyun murmured.

 

At this, Taeyang released the boy. Youngkyun rarely used his full name, always abbreviated it as “Tae” or sometimes “Taeyangie”.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a concerned frown.

 

“Can I tell you something? And if you don’t like it, please at least try to stay by my side,” Youngkyun said. His stomach was doing somersaults and he felt like the waves rolling along the shore were drowning out his meek voice.

 

“Go ahead,” Taeyang said. “I’ll be here.”

 

“I. . . think I have feelings for you,” Youngkyun whispered, fists gripping handfuls of sand by his sides in nervousness. “It’s just. . . it’s supposed to be wrong, every part of it, and I know it, but every time I’m with you, I just want it to last forever, you know? And I feel so much more alive with you, it’s a feeling I’ve never felt with anyone else and I don’t think I’ll. . .” Youngkyun’s words began to fade out upon seeing Taeyang moving slowly closer to him. 

 

Taeyang’s hand ran through Youngkyun’s hair and he brought the younger closer, eyes falling upon his lips. Youngkyun’s heart was racing for what he knew was about to happen and then it did.

 

Taeyang was kissing him. His lips were soft and molded perfectly against Youngkyun’s. Youngkyun’s arms wrapped around Taeyang’s neck intimately and Taeyang’s other hand steadied itself on his waist. They broke apart for one cursed second and then Youngkyun hungered for another kiss and he pushed closer to Taeyang. Taeyang returned the kiss passionately, making a small noise and Youngkyun. . . liked it. 

 

As they pulled apart, Youngkyun gazed once more upon Taeyang’s lips—lips that he’d wanted to taste for the longest time, and finally had. 

 

“I love you, Kyun,” Taeyang whispered. “You’re my heart, you’re the biggest reason I need to be in Busan. The city is my heart, my father is my heart, dancing is my heart, but you are all of me and more. I love you.” Taeyang enveloped him in another hug and rocked him side to side slowly, in time with the crashing waves.

 

“I hate my parents,” Youngkyun admitted against Taeyang’s chest. “I want them to know I love you, but I can’t have that. They’ll throw me out.” His lower lip trembled and suddenly, he was glad Taeyang couldn’t see his face. He didn’t want him to see him crying.

 

Maybe Taeyang couldn’t _see_ him crying, but he could _hear_ and _feel_. him crying. “Shh,” Taeyang whispered. He kissed Youngkyun’s head softly and hugged him tighter.

 

Youngkyun pushed away and gazed at Taeyang with tearful eyes. “Maybe I’ll tell them when I’m eighteen. And then I can be with you. I don’t want them to keep controlling my life.”

 

“And they won’t,” Taeyang said. “You’re being defiant, you know? By going out with me, you’re going against their rules and that’s winning.”

 

“Winning the battle doesn’t mean you’ll win the war,” Youngkyun murmured. 

 

“How many battles have you fought then?” Taeyang asked, wrapping his arm around Youngkyun’s shoulder. “You’ll win, Kyun. I believe in you. Now, it’s half past midnight and the night’s still young. Where do you want to go?”

 

**_Solo a ciudad de sol  
Llévame, llévame, donde dejé mi corazón_ **

**Author's Note:**

> This story might have more idk depends on how well it does. I just don't know what direction it would go in lol,,
> 
> Anyways, a bit of background on the story - it was inspired by Khalid's "Suncity" and I based Taeyang's free-spirited character on Tom Sawyer while Youngkyun's character was taken from a friend who told me about how she feels controlled by religion (again, not meant to insult Catholicism or Catholics!). I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!


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